Page 4 of Gemini

As I had taught myself in school, I let the emotions pass through me but not affect me. With a numbness and acceptance I could only learn from the field, I examined the body, tagged and weighed it.

“Wherever you are, kid,” I mumbled softly so Cameron couldn’t hear, “I hope it’s a better place. Or the place you want to be.” I slid the body back in its house, ready to be transferred.

Number seven was an older, heavier set man who—by the hospital records—had died in ICU from sudden organ failure. Examination later found several toxins in his blood. Overdose was the most common answer to many of the bodies that showed up alongside gun shots and stab wounds. Still, a report would need to be made.

By the time I was done with seven, the anxiety was starting to take hold a little tighter. But I forced myself onward.

Just get eight ready for autopsy, then take a break.

I went over to door eight and opened it. As I pulled the body halfway out, I froze.

The corpse was covered by a sheet with only their hand exposed at their side. I stared at the hand, unable to look away.

Realization hit me as the blood drained from my face. A strange sound, kind of like a whimper, slipped past my lips.

No. No, it couldn’t be.

The hand was lying palm up. And on the inner wrist was a tattoo. Two snakes curled around each other with a double-edged knife going through them.

I recognized that tattoo.

Because I’d seen it every day down in the basement of the church.

I’d watched Dom’s hands write on his pad enough to notice the tattoo on his inner wrist. And the few times Lez had handed me his knife, I’d seen the same image poking out from under his black sleeve. I’d seen the ink enough to have it engrained into my memory.

I stood there utterly speechless, unable to move.

Which one? Oh god, which one?

“Lena, you okay?” Cameron called from the other side of the room.

I licked my lips as my mouth went dry. “I…um…yeah, I just need a minute.”

My heart was thumping in my ears. Taking a deep breath, I slid the corpse out all the way.

Standing beside it, I stared at the sheet. Visions of the church came roaring back, and it felt like I was on the edge of some place between memory and reality.

What did you do?

I reached out and curled my hand around the sheet. Then slowly drew the cover aside.

For a solid second, I stared at the corpse, trying to process what I was seeing, before I released a shaky breath, letting the cover drop.

Jesus, fuck.

I closed my eyes, covering my face with my elbow.

Not them.

If there had been a chair, I would have sat my ass down. Instead, I dropped my elbow and stood there, trying to get myself calm.

A rush of emotions passed through me from dread to relief, to sadness, then anger.

I shouldn’t feel any of this for them. I shouldn’t have to feel this.

They didn’t deserve my concern or sympathy.

A stinging pain in my palm made me flinch as I realized I was digging my nails into my skin. I released the fist I’d made and forced my emotions away. Regaining my composure, I turned back to examine the body.